


Make Him Laugh

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair uses a little silliness to find out what's bothering Jim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Him Laugh

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Anne and Diana for beta duty.

## Make Him Laugh

by Cinel Durant

Author's disclaimer: These characters belong to PetFly Productions and UPN. No profit is in my future; no promises were made. 

* * *

Make Him Laugh  
by  
Cinel Durant 

*Blip.* 

*Blip.* 

Blair was sitting at the table, listening as his disheartened roommate plodded through their 80-plus channels looking for something to distract him. 

*Blip.* 

He caught a few notes of one of the programs but then it was gone. 

*Blip.* 

"Jim?" 

"What, Sandburg?" Jim snapped. 

"Wanna talk about it?" 

"Won't do any good." 

"It might lengthen the life of the remote in your hand. That's a good cause, don't you think? At least you'll think so when you're trying to find a replacement in about, say, at the rate you're going, next week sometime?" 

"Shut up, Sandburg," Jim growled. 

Jim should really know him better by now. "Jim?" Blair ventured again, mentally checking off the humorous approach. 

"Yeah?" 

"Snap out of it, huh?" 

"Fuck off, Blair." 

_Two_ flags: his first name and 'fuck.' This called for desperate measures. "Don't make me pull out the big guns, Jim," Blair said as lowered the pen in his hand. 

"What, you're going to. . . " Jim stopped, looking at the television screen. It was Donald O'Connor again. " . . . _sing_ to me?" he said mockingly. 

He didn't look at Blair; if he had, he might have seen the determination on his lover's face. 

"If I have to." 

"Yeah right." 

Blair scooted his chair back and walked over to Jim. 

"Jim." Jim just looked at him. "I did warn you, right?" 

"Sure you did and I told you to--" 

Blair started singing. "Make 'em laugh, make 'em laugh . . ." 

He'd stopped the big lug mid-sentence, which really did make him want to laugh, but he kept singing. 

Jim sat stunned. He watched as Blair pounded on an imaginary piano and pranced and strode around the room in a modified version of the musical number. Then a couch pillow became a prop and the furniture, Blair's scenery. Blair sang every note without faltering before ending the impromptu number with a dramatic flop on the floor. 

From that angle, Blair watched Jim with his mouth agape for several seconds. Then Jim started laughing, deep belly laughs that came more quickly as he lost control. Blair sat up with a big grin on his face and joined him, giving in to his own chuckles. 

Then, awareness blindsided him: Jim had been humming along with him through every note. 

"If you break out in 'Beautiful Girls,' I will kill you Sandburg," Jim choked out, still laughing softly. 

"What?!?!" 

"'Singing in the Rain' -- it was my mother's favorite musical." 

"No way!" 

Jim shook his head, sobering. "She said that was what she was doing in her marriage, trying to sing in the rain. I wasn't supposed to hear her, but I did." He paused. "So obviously you know it too, give over." 

"High school about 60 miles out of Tacoma. Spring play, junior year." 

"Well, shit," Jim smiled. "You never cease to amaze me, Blair." 

"Me? I'm surprised you've ever seen a musical, let alone can name the song titles. First motorcycles, now musicals. What else am I going to discover you haven't told me?" 

Jim moved suddenly. "That I love you?" 

"Nah, you already told me that," Blair waved him off, but it never occurred to him to not be pleased. 

"Today?" Jim spoke just above a whisper, leaning closer. 

"Well, no, not today." 

"Then, there you go," Jim said quietly. He pressed a light kiss to Blair's lips before going back to the couch. 

Blair got up and sat next to Jim. Without any objections, he slid the remote away from Jim and muted the television. The silliness had broken the tension, but he still wanted to know what was bothering his partner. A less tightly wound Jim told him. 

"There's no point in worrying about it until it happens, Jim," Blair reminded him patiently. 

"I know. But things are just getting manageable again, and if Simon takes the transfer, where does that leave us? Who else is going to tolerate this _strange_ working relationship we've got? And what about working for someone who doesn't know I'm a Sentinel? Right now, I don't have to hide it from my partner or my boss. I don't want that to change." 

"But he might not take it. Did it ever occur to you that he might not want to go? That he might feel an . . . obligation . . . no, that's not it, well that's only part of it, that he might be committed to staying and helping you -- us -- use your senses for the benefit of the department?" 

Jim wouldn't look at him. 

"It didn't, did it?" Blair touched him then, not needing to see Jim's eyes to read what was there, knowing Jim would understand the touch for what it was. "Why is it so hard for you to accept that you're worth making sacrifices for?" 

"It's not," Jim protested. Blair started to speak, but Jim continued. "Worth it or not, it just doesn't happen very often." 

"Look at me," Blair demanded softly, and Jim shifted his way. "The people in your life who love you -- and yes, Simon is amongst that number -- consider it an honor to return the loyalty and friendship you show them. You should never forget that." 

"I don't," Jim said, but at Blair's shaking head he amended his statement. "I won't." He took Blair in his arms. "I do love you. First you make me laugh, then you give me another way of looking at things." 

Blair lowered his head to Jim's shoulder for a few moments, waiting, but Jim just held his silence. 

"Jim?" 

"Okay, okay. I'll try to quit worrying," Jim promised with a deep sigh. 

Blair felt the last of the tension start to fade and lifted his head. "Good." With a quick squeeze, he went back to the table, but not before handing Jim back the television remote. Under his breath, he was humming 'You Were Meant For Me.' 

Jim grinned. 

~~End~~ 


End file.
